


air time

by trash_vevo (orphan_account)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Airplane, Airplanes, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Fluff, Kinda, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 22:32:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7951729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/trash_vevo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzo's first flight. He... strongly dislikes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	air time

The cabin of the plane was quiet. The moon shone down onto the sleeping team through Hanzo’s open window. His stomach hadn’t stopped churning since the moment they had gotten onto the plane, and despite the time he hadn’t gotten any sleep. He looked around at everyone, wondering if anyone else was awake. Next to him was a sleeping McCree, his head laid far back and his stupid hat covering his stupid face. Across the aisle were Lucio and Hana, heads resting on their tray tables. God, that looked uncomfortable. Reinhardt was spread out over two chairs, his legs in one and the rest of him in the other. He was trying to figure out how exactly Tracer managed to fall asleep on the floor when it happened.

Hanzo heard a clunking noise coming from the wing.

His heart started racing, and he reflexively reached for his bow.

He grabbed it from in front of him, but it wouldn’t come up. He kept tugging, getting more forceful, but it wouldn’t budge. Hanzo started to panic, scrambling to get his feet off the ground so whatever had his bow didn’t manage to grab him, too.

The voice coming from his right made him jump.

“What in the hell… are you doing to my leg.”

Hanzo put his hand over McCree’s mouth. Whatever had his bow, had McCree’s leg.

“Be quiet.” he whispered. “Something is attacking us. Something is in here. It has your foot.”

McCree pried his hand off.

“Shit, Hanzo, that’s your bow around my leg. Get some sleep.”

Upon closer investigation, Hanzo realized that it was not, in fact, an intruder tugging on his bow. Jesse had somehow managed to put his foot inside the bow, in between the string and the handle.

Hanzo sighed in relief. He lowered his feet back down, noticing how loud the “tap” of his feet hitting the floor seemed in contrast to the silent environment. He turned over to Jesse, who had gone back to sleep already. A light tap on his shoulder got him back up.

“Hm?”

“There was a crashing noise. I think it came from the wing.” Hanzo explained.

“Oh. I dunno about that, go back to sleep.” Jesse said, apparently unaware that Hanzo was never asleep in the first place.

“That’s it? Jesse. There could be something wrong with the plane.”

“Hanzo, there ain’t nothing wrong with the plane. It was probably just turnin’ or somethin’.” assured Jesse.

“Hm. Okay.”

“G’night, Hanzo.” McCree put his hat over his face once again, ready to fall back asleep.

“...Jesse?”

“Hm?” Jesse didn’t seem annoyed, strangely. He lifted his hat off his face.

“How… safe are we?”

Jesse lifted an eyebrow.

“We ain’t gonna die on this thing, if that’s what ya mean.”

“Hm.” replied Hanzo, unsatisfied with his answer. 

They sat in silence for a while. Hanzo stared at the moon through the window, and Jesse stared at Hanzo but pretended to stare at the moon when Hanzo turned toward him. Jesse could feel how anxious Hanzo was, and wondered why he was so deathly afraid of airplanes. He wouldn’t ask him, obviously, but he wondered. Hanzo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was clearly making an effort to relax himself. Jesse couldn’t help but stare, the way that the moonlight shone onto his face was nothing short of heavenly. He looked like something out of a movie.

“I cannot meditate with you staring at me.” said Hanzo, opening one eye to peer at Jesse.

Jesse was glad that Hanzo couldn’t see the color of his face.

“’m sorry,” muttered Jesse. “We’re completely safe here, ya know. Lot safer’n on the ground, if we’re tellin’ the truth.”

Hanzo chuckled a little. “Hm. I suppose. Less people want to kill us up here.”

“Right! ’Nd considerin’ all the shit you’ve been though, you can handle a lil bit o’ flyin’, can’t you?”

“Hm. Evidently I cannot.” replied Hanzo. “Flying is… A big thing.”

“Never been on a plane before, have ya?”

“No.”

“Hm. Try this. Always helped me.” said McCree, taking one of his earbuds and giving it to Hanzo. “Music. Calms your nerves.”

“Hah. I don’t know if-”

“Just give it a try. Nothin’ to lose, Shimada.”

Hanzo placed the earbud gently in his ear. He was expecting an onslaught of banjos and grating country voices. He was instead greeted with calming acoustic guitar. 

There were no voices, just the calm strumming of what sounded like a quartet of guitars. Hanzo shut his eyes and let the music envelop him. Worries seemed to melt away, and were replaced with thought of guitars and sweetness and warmth. It swept him away from his anxieties, and seemed to swell his very heart. It brought up feelings familiar and new. (He chose to ignore certain pressing feelings about certain cowboys.) When the song ended, he turned to look at McCree. Jesse was looking at Hanzo with the biggest smile on his face, and Hanzo couldn’t help but smile back.

“Didja like it?” asked McCree.

“Yes. It was… Unexpectedly calm.” Hanzo said, moving his eyes away from Jesse’s.

“Can’t be playin’ anything uppity when your nerves need soothed.” explained McCree.

“Hm.” Hanzo had underestimated the cowboy. “Play another.”


End file.
